Detention Don Part Two: Diving Back into School
by theallbadhat
Summary: Don gets persuaded into becoming the mentor for a group of teenagers. Will he regret it when he ends up manning their dunking booth? Or will he and a young,new secretary take advantage of his position? Chapter 6 rated M for a sexual situation.
1. Ms Sloane's Persuasion

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Numb3rs or the characters therein. All characters are fictional and should not be associated when any other person- real or imagined.

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Don kissed Ms. Sloane deeply, licking the taste of cherry lipgloss from his front teeth.

"Do you have everything?" he asked, wondering if everything included himself.

"Yes- suitcases are all in a row." _Guess not._

Ms. Sloane snuck a nibble at his neck, running her finger along his jaw line when she stepped back.

"Thank you so much- _for everything_," she whispered seductively.

Warming from head to feet, Don turned his back to her, carrying the luggage to the front door.

_Oh, boy! Her cab will be here soon- no time for that._

"You know I'll miss you," she smiled at his back.

"I'll miss you, too."

Miss Sloane went up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head on his shoulder. "If I could stay, you know I would."

"I know."

"Don, I have a favor to ask."

Grinning, he twisted his face to hers. "Don't think we have time, but I'm game if you are."

After smacking him lightly on the bottom, she tickled his sides. Laughing, he breathlessly promised, "Okay, okay- I give! Anything, anything you want- I'm all yours."

"Good," she said, sliding around to face Don, her arms still encircling him. "Now that I'm leaving, the 'Detention Dawgs' are going to need someone to keep an eye on them. So…"

Don's face suddenly turned serious. "Look, I liked those boys, but I don't exactly have time to check that they're doing okay in school. That's why they created parents."

Returning his stern look, Ms. Sloane pointed out the obvious, "They don't all live with their parents. And the ones who do, well, believe it or not, saying _working parent_ nowadays is rather redundant."

Shaking his head, Don refused to accept the responsibility. "What, I just show up and tell Rooney I'm there to see the private grades and records of a bunch of boys I knew all of, what, two weeks?"

"No," she said slyly, "you show up and tell Rooney you are their new mentor and club leader. Then you ask the _boys _how they're doing."

"Club leader? They have an official detention club now?"

"No," she began playing with his tie, knowing it drove him crazy to have her hands working so near his body, but not actually touching him. While he was thus distracted, she continued, "But they do have an official Future Federal Law Enforcers of America club."

"Really," he murmured, pressing his hands against her hips, "that is so, so"-

Don suddenly straightened, looking at her in surprise and denial. "No, wait a minute. Since when do they have a Federal Law Enforcers club? You're making that up."

"Okay, I confess- I did make it up," she smiled smugly, leaning against the door jamb, pressing her shoulders back so Don could admire two of her greatest assets, "but it's official as of yesterday. I wrote up the papers and signed Rooney's name to it myself. I even had him approve of a certain federal agent as mentor and club leader."

"Uh, huh." Don spoke mechanically, his thoughts roaming to places he had recently visited upon the state of Sloan.

"So," she said, sidling up to him, her hands moving under his jacket and settling on his hips, rubbing gently back and forth. "You'll go to the school tomorrow? They have the fun-fair coming up. If you get them signed up, they can have a booth, raise some money, and participate in school in an appropriate way."

"Mmm, hmm," he gave in, his eyes half-closed. Dipping down to kiss her again, he raised his wrist behind her head and checked the time. "How 'bout we spend a little time behaving in an _inappropriate _way- just so I get it out of my system?"

"Mmm, hmm," she mumbled into his mouth, thinking about the meter that would be running on the cab.

_This is going to be one expensive good-bye._

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Don looked up at his old high school, his sunglasses keeping away the glare of the sun. He did not really want to be there; hell, if Grace hadn't been so _convincing_, he would have given her a firm 'no'. Unfortunately, he had instead given her a firm 'yes'- twice, as it turned out, before the cabdriver had finally started laying on his horn. After they'd hurriedly dressed and he had given her a quick kiss good-bye, he had lingered on her walkway and watched the cab until it disappeared, while he thought what a cliché he had become.

Not liking that his greatest ally was no longer there, but more than empathetic to her need to go back east and care for her ailing mother, Don entered the school with reservations about becoming a mentor. He knew he had become a good example as an adult: his rewards and medals were testimony to that. It was just that for some reason and despite his best efforts, being around Rooney seemed to bring the worst out in him.

Entering the principal's office, Don felt the place looked forlorn and empty without Ms. Sloan. A skinny, young woman stepped into the room, her arms full of files. Her hair was a bird's nest, her clothes messy- a long skirt and white blouse covered by a long-sleeved sweater; the buttons were done up incorrectly, so that it hung unevenly on her body. Pushing up large, circular black glasses, she asked Don if she could help him, while she dropped page after page of papers on the floor.

Don bent over, picking up the loose pages.

"Oh, thank you," she gushed, "There aren't too many people who just offer to help anymore." After she dropped the files haphazardly on her desk, she gave Don's hand a firm shake. "I'm Dita McDonald. Just Dita to my friends."

"Special Agent Don Eppes- just Don to my friends."

"Oooh- special agent? Like James Bond?"

"No, federal agent; like the Untouchables."

To Don's surprise, she shyly flirted, "Oh, I bet no one would ever say that about you."

Grinning, he asked for Rooney.

"He's in his office," she sighed, "coming up with some other inane task for me to do, I'm sure.You know, Miss Sloane had everything organized so well; he seems to think he has a better method, though I've yet to figure out exactly what it is." Whispering confidentially, she told Don, "I think he's just avoiding his own responsibilities. You should see the stack of papers on _his _desk."

"Ms. McDonald," Rooney suddenly appeared behind Dita. "I take it you have better things to do than gossip with uninvited visitors."

"Yes, sir, of course." Shrinking further into her oversized clothes, Dita ran from the room.

"Well, Don- nee," Rooney said with unwarranted satisfaction, "I guess I should offer you my condolences, what with Grace leaving you and all."

"Maybe- but the getting was good while I was getting it." Don smiled with warranted satisfaction. "But then, you wouldn't know what I'm talking about, seeing as you've never gotten any"- he paused for effect"- thing from anyone."

Fuming, Rooney asked Don through clenched teeth, "Exactly why are you here?"

"Oh, I came to sign the paperwork to be mentor of the Future Federal Law Enforcers of America club. I was told to speak to you."

"Law Enforcers club? Hmph! We've never had one before, and we don't have one now. I'm sorry, but I can't help you."

"The paperwork is right here on my desk, sir," Dita spoke up from behind Rooney, having returned with a new stack of files. Dropping them on a chair, she rummaged through the mess in front of her, pulling out several sheets of printed paper.

"Give me those," Rooney snapped, grabbing the papers from her hands. Dita stepped back several feet, obviously afraid of her overbearing boss; Don frowned. "Well," Rooney observed, "it seems that not only have _I _signed the papers for this new club- but somehow, it must have slipped your memory that _you _did, too." Rooney showed Don a perfect reproduction of the agent's signature on the last of the pages held in his hand.

Don looked closely at the signature. Impressive, he thought, almost as good a forger as me. I wonder how long it took Grace to get it right.

Releasing the papers, Don tapped his head. "Sometimes I don't know where my mind is; I remember now, Grace had me sign them on our last date. I guess I just forgot, as it wasn't the most memorable thing I was doing that night."

Snatching the papers and slamming them on the desk, Rooney conceded, "Fine. You're a new mentor. I suppose I already know who the members of the club are?"

"Why, I do believe there were five signatures under mine; your eyesight isn't going in your old age, is it Ward-ee?"

Ignoring Don's question, Rooney replied. "Ms. McDonald will get you a list of mentor responsibilities." He suddenly smiled, as if remembering something. "Oh, by the way, you are required to meet at the school once a week. And I'm afraid the only day we have a room available is Friday. But with Grace moved out of town, I don't think that should be a problem now, should it?"

With that, the principal dismissed Don with a wave and exited to his office, grinning.

"He is such a-a, a butthead," Dita stated, shaking her head back and forth. "If you want, I can help out on Fridays. I don't have much of a social life myself."

"I'd appreciate it," Don thanked her. "Sometimes my schedule doesn't run nine-to-five and I might be late, or unable to make it. Now, how do I sign our club up for the fun fair? And how does it operate- we had them when I attended way back in the day, but it's been awhile."

"Oh, you'll probably think it's just as fun as you remember! All the clubs get assigned a booth in the gym; you know, games like ring toss, or a roulette wheel, even a dunking booth- though, between you and me, it's not very popular with club members, what with having to be dunked in a tank full of cold water. Then, whoever raises the most money wins a prize. This year, it's a field trip for the club and its mentor, plus any necessary chaperones." Dita moved in closer to Don. "There's also a dance at nine o'clock in the cafeteria- makes the whole night one big school party."

"It does sound like I remember. Only, we didn't raise money for competition- we just did it to pay for the clubs."

"Well, Ms. Sloane told me a lot about Rooney- she said he thinks everything should be a serious competition."

"Yeah, just like him to take the fun out of fun-fair. Well, I can't front the bill for this club on government salary, so I guess we better sign up for a booth."

"Don't worry about it," she replied, smiling as she pulled out another set of forms. Don was amazed at how efficiently she found what she needed in the leaning paper towers built vicariously on top of her desk. "Miss Sloane signed these for you, too."


	2. The King's Throne Room

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Numb3rs or the characters therein. All characters are fictional and should not be associated with any other person- real or imagined.

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Don returned to his old high school that Friday, arriving inside the front entrance as the dismissal bell rang. Dita had assured him she would tell his new men-tees to meet him at the front of the school that day, and about the new club they had unknowingly joined.

Standing next to the front doors, Don was surprised that he was not swamped by escaping students, though he observed a steady stream of young bodies rushing through the upper hallway that branched to either side at the top of the stairs in front of him, heading off to who-knew-where. The school eventually settled to immobility around him; Don wondered if he had wasted a trip, when five young men languidly walked up a set of stairs to his right, as if anyone who wanted to see them should be grateful to wait.

The Detention Dawgs wore their usual uniform of t-shirts, jeans, and frowns, their jagged body positions still decrying an attitude of aggression and distance. Once they were within a few feet of Don, however, despite their best efforts they could no longer carry their air of defiance, rushing up to surround the agent and smiling like little kids while they patted him on the back and flooded him with questions.

"Hey, Don, what's going on?"

"What's this club thing?"

"How'd we join, anyway, I don't remember signing anything?"

"Man, didn't ever expect you to come steppin' back in here!"

"Hear you've been the playa with Miss Sloane, what's up with that?"

Shaking each of the boys' hands and returning their pats on the back, Don hushed them to a few comments here and there as he explained how Miss Sloane had thought they might be interested in becoming law enforcement officers after they had heard his lecture, and that she had talked Rooney into letting Don form the club, convincing the principal that it would be good for them. While they remained silent, Don placed a name to each of the disbelieving faces in front of him: _okay, the short Latino kid is Miguel, the taller one is Jose- they call him Joey; Adam's easy to remember- my middle name, he's the blond white kid; that leaves Jeff-hmmm, he's the black kid and Ben- that brown hair sure stands out against his pale skin. _

"Boy," Miguel said, "You lie really good. You actually said that with a real convincing look on your face. You oughta sell cars or something like that."

"No way would old Nipplehead agree to us having a club, especially not with Detention Don heading it up. Miss Sloane must have been behind it," observed Jeff.

"She must have run some kind of number on you, getting you to come back here," Adam smirked, "I bet she was real persuasive..."

Holding up his hands and grinning, Don refused to let that part of the conversation go any further. "First lesson in law- pleading the fifth."

"Alright, alright, maybe we don't have eyewitness proof, but I bet that red face of yours would be good circumstantial evidence," Jeff declared.

All five boys laughed as Don turned redder.

Fortunately, Dita appeared, her chaste uniform of long skirts and heavy sweaters easily clearing all six male minds of the image of the luscious and bodacious Miss Sloane; she said 'hi' to the boys and blushed a 'hello' to Don, repeating her habit of pushing her glasses up her nose. Waving a key, she said, "Rooney says we can meet in the office between rooms 116 and 120."

"Great." Don took the key from Dita, heading down the main staircase while he explained to the Dawgs, "We're not just some made up club, you know; we're official, just like a sports team or the booster club. We have to meet once a week, just like the other clubs, and I'll really teach you about law enforcement. You might surprise yourselves and find it interesting."

"Do we get to do everything other clubs do?" Ben asked.

"Sure. And just like them, we're a team- we all have an equal say in what we do. You can give me suggestions about what will make our Fridays fun, and we'll vote on it. I have a few ideas of my own; I have lots of law enforcement contacts, so we can go on field trips to my office, and some police stations; maybe see the local jail"- Don jokingly added, "unless you've already been on that trip."

When Don stopped at the bottom of the stairs, he noticed that none of the teens were smiling. He realized his mistake- these boys were probably teased all the time about being the 'criminal element' and every bad thing that went along with that reputation; he knew it didn't take too much of that before a young mind began to believe what everyone else said was true. Well, he thought, I won't make that same mistake again. "I'm sorry. That last remark was rude. I really wouldn't be here if I didn't think you had the potential to enter law enforcement- or any other career you want. We can focus on the law enforcement aspect of the club, but if there's something else that interests you, just let me know. I'll see what I can do- I promise."

The boys silently weighed Don's remark and his apology. They had never thought of joining a club, having always been outsiders and not wanting to risk the rejection. This club was different- they were the insiders, and had already been accepted by each other, so rejection by its members was not something they were risking. However, they were still having a hard time believing that anyone outside of themselves would take them seriously, and Don's remark had only underlined that mistrust. Still, no one had ever apologized to them before, especially an adult; and besides, they were beginning to get excited about his mention of field trips, as none of them had left their neighborhoods before, the lack of money and transportation real factors in limiting their exploration of their world.

Secretly, they quickly forgave Don, but Miguel looked at him with soulfully sad eyes, "Man, that was harsh. Everyone always expects us to be bad. Sometimes, it just makes me want to give up." He sighed deeply. All four boys imitated their unspoken leader, their shoulders sinking and their eyes turning away. Seeing Don's guilty expression deepening, Miguel looked at the floor, carefully shuffling his feet, "Maybe when we're done meeting here you could do something to make it up to us." He played the agent's feelings of guilt to a tune that included four large pizzas and a limitless supply of soda.

Thus forgiven, Don walked with Dita as the boys lead them to room 116; Don couldn't remember which direction to take while Dita was too new to know.

"Where were all those students going in the upstairs hallway?" he asked the secretary.

"Well, the fun-fair is only two weeks away, and it's become a big beginning of the school year event. All the clubs will be meeting almost every day after school to form strategies to get the most donations, and setting up and decorating their booths on the lower gym floor. Plus, you can only participate if you make a thousand fliers advertising the fair in general, with your club's name in the bottom right corner so they know who's responsible for them." She rolled her eyes. "It's one of the ways Rooney saves on his personal administrator funds."

Don thought about this- _everyday _after school. No way he could make it. Reading his thoughts, Dita offered, "I can be here any day you can't. Just show up enough that Rooney doesn't say you're shirking your responsibilities"- adding just loud enough for him to hear- "and enough so I know you're not shirking me."

They arrived at the designated office door, Don pressing through all bodies present to slip the key in the door and stiffening slightly when he suddenly felt Dita pressing closely next to him. Hmmm, he thought, she does wear good perfume. "Funny, when I was in school, this was the janitor's closet..." Don opened the door, flicked on the wall switch, and then stared open-mouthed in disbelief at the six fold-up chairs squeezed in-between a collection of mops, brooms, buckets and various other cleaning tools, light barely emanating from the bare bulb hanging from the ceiling; a lingering odor of old vomit permeated the air.

Jeff clapped him on the shoulder, "Surprise! Surprise! This is _still _the janitor's closet."

He and the other Dawgs slipped by him, once again patting him affectionately on the back in support; Dita did the same, managing to make hers a little more of a rub and lower on his body.

Shaking the shock from his face, Don entered the room; he found a small piece of wood to prop the door open, allowing fresh air to enter and keeping the smell in the room to a minimum. He watched as the Dawgs sat seriously in the chairs in the room, all of them sitting upright and at attention, as if the principal had assigned them the king's own throne room for their club meeting; Don couldn't help but grin and decide to be playful. He picked up a bucket and checked to make sure it was clean; then he plopped it on his head and grabbed the nearest mop, holding it in his hand like a scepter and banging it on the ground, loudly stating, "I declare the first meeting of the Future Law Enforcers of America club is now in order."

Dita and the Dawgs clapped enthusiastically and hooted, making Don's eyes gleam.


	3. FoulTasting Bars of Stomach Death

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Numb3rs or the characters therein. All characters are fictional, and should not be associated with any other person- real or imagined.

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Don, Dita and the Detention Dawgs spent a little over thirty minutes discussing the fun-fair and the requirements to participate. All five boys were excited about the fair, stating adamantly that the money needed to participate could not come from Don or Dita's own pockets; however, they were unsure how they would come up with the money to purchase the required 1,000 fliers advertising the fair with their name on the corner.

Dita spoke up. "Why don't we do a small fundraiser? If we have our posters up by next Saturday, even Rooney couldn't complain that we posted them too late."

Don and the Dawgs said in unison, "You don't know Rooney."

"Well, leave him to me," Dita said confidently, "there's much more to me than meets the eye." She looked at Don, tilting her head forward and batting her eyelashes.

Don nervously adjusted his tie, checking Dita over despite himself, wondering exactly how much the small secretary could be hiding under her thick sweaters. _Just a couple handfuls would be enough, _he decided. He suddenly noticed the Dawgs were grinning at him and he blushed in embarrassment, desperate to change the subject. "Okay, uh, what kind of fundraiser can we do in one week?"

"Oh, that's easy," Jeff said, "How about we sell candy- if you go by one of those warehouse clubs and pick it up really cheap, we can double the price of each bar- we'd only need to sell about two hundred of them in order to have enough to pay for the fliers."

"Hmm. Sounds good," Don nodded. He asked Dita, "Do we have to fill out any forms or get permission from Rooney?"

"Yes, but don't worry- Ms. Sloan left me a whole stack of signed forms; all we have to do is fill it out."

"Well, then I guess the only thing left to do is see what booth we've been assigned in the gym and decide how we're going to set it up." Don stood and went to the door, holding it open for the Dawgs, who talked animatedly as they filtered from the room. Before Dita flittered through the door, she stopped to lean into Don, whispering in his ear, "A _whole_ lot more than you think."

Two slaps on his behind and she was gone, leaving Don stunned but helplessly intrigued.

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Don led his troops into the gym. It was a chaotic bustle of activity. The bleachers were folded up against the side walls and the basketball hoops strung up, bright fluorescent lights making every person and item in the place brilliantly backlit. Along both sides of the gym and down two separate rows in the middle, groups of teenagers were busy putting together wooden booths, painting, writing banners, and talking.

Talking, talking, and talking- the whole gym was a loud hum of voices continually streaming from teenage mouths at a dizzying and immeasurable speed.

Don worked his way through the tightly pressed number of bodies, looking for the person in charge of the fair, the Dawgs and Dita in tow. As they squeezed through what seemed like innumerable young people, Don noted that none of the other students talked to his men-tees nor did they in turn talk to anyone else; when he glanced back at the Dawgs, he noticed their eyes were on the floor and their hands were in pockets, their usual swaggers missing as they shuffled along behind him. Don felt sorry that the young men obviously felt so out of place within their own student body. It was a feeling Don had rarely had the misfortune of having while in high school, where he had been a big man on campus for most of his time there.

He was so concerned about the young men that Don did not see the skinny, tall body that suddenly blocked his path. Rooney glared at Don- "Watch where you're going!"

Don bit his tongue, opting to apologize instead of remarking, so that the principal had no reason to kick him-_and the Dawgs_-out of the fair. He was not going to let Rooney ruin this for the boys, no matter how much he tried. "Sorry, Mr. Rooney, I didn't see you there."

Rooney stared distrustfully at Don. "Yeah, well...forget it. I just wanted to personally show you which booth is yours." With a cocky smile, he indicated that Don and his entourage were to follow him.

They maneuvered through the milling throng, stepping over cables and laid out planks of wood, bobbing about as teens tossed items across to each other and continued to chatter amiably. Don frowned as the din subsided and they exited the main part of the gym, wondering where Rooney was leading them. His frown deepened to a scowl when Rooney finally stopped in the furthest corner of the gym, several hundred feet from the nearest booth; their spot was located directly next to the boys' locker room and partially hidden behind a thick curtain that was normally used to separate the gym in half.

Don doubted anyone but themselves and Rooney would even know they were there.

Rooney pointed to the wall. "I trust you're handy with tools?"

That was when Don noticed a set of flat pieces of aluminum and clear acrylic stacked neatly against the wall. Of course, he thought, we have the dunking booth.

Before he turned and left, Rooney laughed at the dismal look on Don's face.

"What's that thing?" Miguel asked.

Don sighed. "It's a dunking booth."

"Nah, really? Din think they made those no more," Joey said. He walked over to the wall and checked over the loose pieces of the booth. "Think we might need somethin' to put it togetha?"

Jeff joined his friend. "I don't think we'll need a full set of tools. I can see where we'll need a ratchet, an electric drill and different size Philips screwdriver tips- don't know, maybe a wrench, pliers. Nothing more than that- oh, yeah, a hammer. I guess we'll have to hang the banner from a couple well-placed nails."

Miguel, Ben and Adam joined them; they began stealing into the boys' locker room to grab some wet paper towels and returning to clean layers of dust and grime from the booth. Don was amazed that they were so positive about getting such a lousy spot and the one booth that nobody wanted. He guessed if you've always had nothing, _something _always looked good.

Don took off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves. Dita was immediately by his side and put a hand on his lower arm. "There were some tools in our club room," she smiled, "I'll go get them."

Don watched her leave, wondering briefly what she had hidden under the back of her skirt. _A couple handfuls would be enough there, too, _he decided again, turning back towards the Dawgs, who had been paying attention to Don and Dita's little interaction. Don put his hands on his hips and shook his head when the boys all bobbed their heads forward and back, all the while saying-

"Ooooooh, playa."

After Dita returned, the next few hours were spent putting the booth together. By the time they were done, the gym had almost completely emptied. Don and his team stood back to view their finished product, all of them smiling with satisfaction.

"Not too bad if I do say so myself," Don stated.

"Ain't bad at all," Ben argued. "It's perfect."

The rest of his friends murmured agreement.

"So," Miguel asked, "whatta we do- fill it now or next week?"

"I vote for now," Joey chimed in, "so the water has time to get nice and warm."

"I may be wrong," Jeff informed them, "but I don't remember putting any type of heating element on this thing."

"That's because you didn't," Dita said, "I'm afraid you boys are going to be dipping into some real cold water."

Don and the Dawgs instinctively placed their hands in front of their groins, grimacing at the thought of what that icy water was going to do to their nether regions. For the first time since they found out about the booth, the Dawgs all looked forlornly at it in disappointment.

Don sighed in resignation. "Look, if you guys agree to get out in the crowd and bring in some business, I'll man the booth. If I can handle gunfire, I can handle a little cold water. Besides, it'll give you guys a chance to go to the dance."

The smiles returned to the faces of the boys. "Deal," they said.

"Well, I guess that's about all we can do for tonight." Don picked up his jacket and offered to give everyone a ride home.

"Ya haven't forgotten our pizza?" Miguel said sadly.

"No," Don said wearily, "I haven't forgotten."

The boys eagerly headed towards the exit, Don and Dita trying to keep up with them. "I think I was conned earlier," he told the young secretary. "When it comes to certain people, I don't know why, but I have a hard time not caving in when they want something from me."

As she thought about what she wanted from the man walking next to her, Dita wistfully wondered if she could legally change her name to C_ertain People._

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Colby looked around the office, keeping his eyes open for Don. Not seeing his boss, he hurriedly grabbed his coat and made a run for the elevator.

Two feet- that's all he needed to get to the door.

But as he was leaning forward to press the elevator button, Don appeared from out of nowhere- three candy bars held in his hand.

"I think these have your name on them, Colby." Don waved the bars in front of the other agent's face.

Groaning inwardly, Colby took out his wallet and pulled six dollars from within. He handed the money over and accepted the three candy bars, a look of disgust upon his face.

"We appreciate your charitable contribution- don't forget, you can use it as a tax write-off," Don said merrily as he placed the money in his own wallet.

"Yeah, right- six dollars."

"I thought you bought more than three bars?" Don said with a thoughtful look on his face.

Colby realized too late the blunder he had made. Before the elevator arrived, Don somehow managed to have ten more bars in his hand. "I knew I was missing someone," Don said, rocking back and forth on his heels with his other hand held out expectantly.

Colby knew there was no avoiding it- he had to cough up more dough. Sans another twenty dollars from his wallet, Colby finally managed to get on the elevator and escape from Don, mumbling all the way down to the parking garage, where he threw the candy in the nearest trash receptacle.

Don had been cornering all of his coworkers for three days. At first, they had eagerly bought the candy bars- two dollars a shot was not bad when one was hungry and desperate for something, anything to eat. But word quickly spread that the candy was worse than inedible- as a matter of fact, questions began to arise as to whether Don had flipped out and was quietly but efficiently trying to do in his coworkers by collective food-poisoning.

To the regret of said coworkers, no one actually died from eating the candy and so they had no choice but to allow him to continue selling the _foul-tasting bars of stomach death_- a name that said it all about Don's candy.

Don ignored the rumblings of complaint coming from the office staff- both from their mouths _and _their intestinal tracts. Despite their best efforts, the Dawgs had been unable to sell even a single bar; Rooney's sudden ban on candy anywhere within the school the obvious reason why. So, stuck with two hundred candy bars and nowhere but his workplace to sell them, Don had spent the last three days hounding his coworkers to buy them- asking them politely when no one knew about their wretched taste, indirectly hinting at (really, threatening) weekend assignments and mounds of paperwork once the candy's reputation took a nosedive.

Don's sell tactics worked.

Colby had been a final holdout. While Don counted the money Colby had given him and noted he had only ten more bars left to get rid of, he wondered how he had missed his own team member. This led him to think about Megan and David. She had bought five bars on Wednesday- he easily remembered because Megan had taken only one bite before informing him that she was going to completely redo a previous profile she had done on him, this time making sure to see if, other than peddling the chocolate, he had any of the other distinct characteristics that would mark him as a sadist.

Don had just shrugged his shoulders.

Now David- did he buy any from him?

Don was positive he hadn't. Grabbing the final bars, he looked up just in time to see the blur of a body speeding past his cubicle. Don raced towards the elevator, seeing David desperately pushing the button.

Grinning wide, Don stopped running and took a slow approach. David slumped against the wall in defeat when he saw his boss.

"I think these have your name on them, David," Don waved the bars in front of the other agent's face.


	4. Nothing to See

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Numb3rs or the characters therein. All characters are fictional, and should not be associated with any other person- real or imagined.

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Don stood up and cracked his back. He checked his watch, noted the time, and grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair. Halfway to the elevator, his boss' secretary came running down an aisle and flagged him down. Moaning silently because her presence could only mean an unwanted delay, he waited while she approached.

"Agent Eppes, Merrick wanted me to give you this form. He says you forget to take care of it last week, so he had me set up an appointment for you at the clinic for five-thirty today."

Don took the papers and mentally slapped himself in the head. It was time for his yearly eye exam and he had forgotten to take it the week before; if he wanted to be out in the field, he'd need to get it done. But it was Friday and the fun-fair for the Detention Dawgs started at six o'clock. Don figured the time in his mind; if the exam went quickly, he still wouldn't make it till seven-thirty at the earliest. Sighing, he pulled out his phone and called Dita, explaining his delay.

"It's fine, Don, really-one of the boys can man the booth till you can come."

Thanking the secretary, Don shut his phone. He decided to go to the clinic right away- maybe they would be able to see him early.

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The Dawgs and Dita stared out at the main floor of the gym. Up and down the walls and middle aisles, hundreds of people walked from one booth to the next, excited kids and bored parents handing over solid money in exchange for corny games of chance that usually ended with flimsy rewards of miniature stuffed toys, key chains, candy, oversized plastic novelties, and the occasional t-shirt. Each booth had a bright banner hanging over it proudly declaring the name of the club or sports team participating, an eclectic collection of bright balloons attached at either end. Loud music played from various advantageous points throughout the crowded room, its mixture with the laughter coming from customers and the overzealous but amateur selling pitches of makeshift barkers creating a heavy din that was almost impossible for the most forceful voice to penetrate; many people resorted to lip-reading and gestures in order to communicate.

Ben, dark hair and pale white skin in stark contrast with each other, was sitting on the bench at the top of the dunking booth, waiting for a customer to send him into the water below his feet. It hadn't been hard to talk him into taking the position, as earlier in the week Don had brought Larry by the dunking booth and asked him if it was possible for him to come up with a way to warm the water. It had taken the scientist several days, but by Thursday he had impressed five teenage boys, one secretary, and one very-relieved agent with a contraption that lay hidden against a corner of the tank and kept the water at a very warm and comfortable temperature. Thus, the fear of the effects the cold water would have on their nether regions had been quickly put to rest and the Detention Dawgs had readily agreed to be targets when Don phoned he'd be late, understanding their mentor's delay.

"Don't make no difference, anyhow," Miguel told his friends. "Nobody comin' over this way."

He was correct. They're corner was as brightly lit up as the rest of the gym and as carefully decorated- a broad banner declaring the Future Law Enforcers of America hanging high above the dunking booth- but they had too many disadvantages in trying to entice customers. Other than their location off the main strips, the boys didn't have any other friends, so no one was really interested in dunking any of them. They hadn't thought to buy prizes, so the few people who'd inquired about their booth had quickly left, easy customers for the Spanish Club nearby with its fishing game; each customer who swung out a fishing line over a hanging sheet always pulled up some kind of prize, leaving satisfied no matter how small or cheap it was.

And worst of all, none of the Dawgs' family members had been able to make it- all of them either having to work or babysit too many children to reasonably control at the fair, leaving the boys without even that little show of support.

Things definitely looked bleak.

Dita tried to reassure them. "Come on- go out there and talk up some business. I bet we'd get a lot of people here if we could just offer the right bait."

"We don't have anything to offer," Jeff stated matter-of-factly.

"Don't say that," Dita chided him. She looked around for Don. Though the boys had understood the reason for him coming late, she was certain that a good percentage of their disappointment was because of it. Having had so many people bail on them, Dita was afraid they thought Don had done that to them, too. She was sure he hadn't but didn't know how to express that faith to the boys. Finally, just as Dita was starting to have her own doubts, Don appeared at the far end of the gym, weaving uneasily between people.

Dita frowned- _is he drunk_? No, not possible, but still…Don seemed to be walking into people every few feet, apologizing before allowing them to push him in the right direction to the back of the gym. When he finally managed to reach the dunking booth, Don started talking over Dita's right shoulder; his speech was clear, so she just assumed he was tired.

"I am really sorry- you would not believe the traffic."

The Dawgs gathered around him, Ben climbing out of the dunking booth and joining the rest of his group. Dita smiled- she had been correct in her assessment; the boys were suddenly talking at lightning speed, describing the fair as if it was the best time they'd had their entire lives.

"Two cheerleaders came right by us- think they's checkin' us over."

"Almost had two customers- think they got scared thinkin' bout Ben getting' all wet- man just don't look good in shorts."

"Notice the lame banner the football team has- not half as big as the one we have."

And on and on.

Don grinned, commenting on each statement before he got around to asking them how many customers they'd had. The boys lowered their heads and put their hands in their pockets. "Uh, none really," Miguel admitted.

"Oh," Don said to the air.

"Hey," Jeff asked, staring at Don's wide-eyed look and lack of focus. "What's wrong with you?"

Don ran a hand over his brow. "Eye-drops. Think the nurse was in a hurry and overdid it- everything's a blur."

"Oh," Dita said. That explained his odd traverse through the gym.

"Nothing to worry about- they'll wear off before the night is through." Don rubbed his hands together. "Now, I think its time for me to take my shift in the tank." Don nodded in its general direction.

"Ya don't hafta if ya don't wanta," Joey told him, "Water's warm, so we don't mind."

"Prob'bly won't git any customers anyway," Adam stated.

"By the time Don gets suited up, it'll almost be time for the dance," Dita told the boys. "Why don't you let us man the booth and you boys go have some fun."

Don and Dita were surprised when the boys stared at their feet. "What's the matter?" Don asked, "You're not afraid of a few girls are you?"

"No."

"No way."

"We playas, too, man."

Don grinned. "So, what's the problem?"

The Dawgs all looked at Miguel, who faced Don and bravely admitted, "What it is- ten dollas each- dun have enough for all of us. And if we can't all go…"

Don nodded in approval. The boys impressed him more and more each time he was with them. Pulling out his wallet, Don tried to hand them fifty dollars but couldn't make out the bills. Dita reached over and took it from his hand, dolling out the correct amount to Miguel before folding it back up and slowly sliding it into Don's back pocket, letting her hand stay inside moments longer than necessary.

Don was surprised to find that he didn't really mind.

Miguel hesitated before putting the money in his own pocket. "We don't like charity," he said.

"Not charity- you had money left from the candy sale. I was saving it to be used by the club, just didn't know how until just this moment." Accepting Don's explanation, Miguel readily put the money away.

"Okay, now that that's settled," Dita said, "You better get suited up, Don- uh, I assume you're wearing it under your clothes?"

Don embarrassingly admitted, "No, in my rush to get here I forgot to bring it." Hearing the disappointed mutters of the Dawgs, he asked, "Couldn't I borrow one from you guys?"

"Uh," Jeff said rolling his eyes, "you're F.B.I, and you haven't happened to notice in all this time we're a little bit skinnier than you?"

"Oh, yeah," Don put a hand behind his head, "guess I couldn't squeeze in"-

"If it was me," Joey interrupted, "man, I wouldn't risk squeezing any of me into anything- don't know what it might do to ya. Don't wanta ruin your chances of havin' kids."

Don and Dita laughed. He told the boys, "Okay, I guess it'd be better if I could find something else to wear."

Dita asked, "Hey, are you wearing boxers?" At Don's embarrassed expression, she quickly explained, "I mean, if they're heavy enough- maybe you could just wear them. Don't think anyone would really notice the difference between boxers and a swimsuit."

"Well," Don thought about it, "I guess I could- only I'd need to safety pin them in front. And I definitely need to know if they're see-through before dropping in the tank. Don't want to be flashing people, you know- not exactly the kind of behavior a mentor or law enforcement officer should be doing."

Dita and the Dawgs nodded. "We'll check and make sure. Come on." Dita took Don's hand and led him into the boys' locker room. The Dawgs followed behind. When Don stopped next to a bench and began to get undressed, the boys laughed at Dita when she stood watching and didn't make any effort to go. "Hey, Ms. Secretary, do ya think maybe the man needs some privacy?"

"Oh, sorry," Dita said and turned to leave, stopping at the exit just long enough to watch the emergence of Don's chest as he took off his top. _Oh, yeah- am I ever sorry,_ she thought as she finally exited just as Don started to undo his pants, regretting that she could not see more. She waited impatiently outside the locker room for ten minutes before she was called back inside. When she entered, she saw that Don was standing next to the bench again, only this time he was completely soaked and wearing only his boxers. Dita suddenly felt warm all over.

"Can't see a thing," Jeff declared.

Dita carefully scrutinized Don's boxers-_just for the sake of our team_-and noted that Jeff was correct: they had the appearance of a swimsuit. It was difficult, but she resisted checking out the rest of Don, knowing she'd pass out from overstimulation if he looked as good wet as he had with just his shirt off. She handed Don a safety pin and turned away while he pinned the front opening.

When he finished, Dita declared, "Okay, let's get this show on the road."

And what a show it was going to be.


	5. Full Moon Out Tonight

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Numb3rs or the characters therein. All characters are fictional, and should not be associated with any other person- real or imagined.

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Disregarding Dita's offer of a helping hand, Don walked slowly towards the locker room exit, squinting in order to see the path in front of him.

Dita and the Dawgs followed behind. When they were back in the gym, Dita stopped the boys as Don continued on to the tank. "Look, go ahead to the dance- I think Don and I can handle this- we'll be just fine by ourselves."

"Not so sure about that," Jeff said solemnly as he pointed ahead of them to the dunking booth. Dita and the rest of the Dawgs turned to stare in the direction he indicated, their mouths dropping open at the sight.

Don was feeling his way along the tank, heading for the ladder attached to its side. But his little trip around the tank wasn't what had caught the attention of Jeff- nor was making Dita's breath hitch. It was what the glaring lights of the gym were doing to Don's briefs.

Inside the dimness of the locker room, his boxers had come off as a swimsuit. In the fluorescent lighting, they were not only obviously _not_ a swimsuit- they were less than boxers. As Don turned and waved in their general direction, they realized the flimsy cloth was what the agent had feared- completely see-through now that it was backlit, every last inch of his body clearly visible to the world.

"Oh, my," Dita breathed.

The Dawgs shook their heads. "We betta tell 'im," Miguel said.

"Yeah, he's kinda shy for F.B.I.," Adam observed, "Don't think he's gonna like people eyeing his utilities."

The rest of the Dawgs nodded their heads in agreement.

Just as Joey was about to go over and stop Don from climbing up into the tank, a woman came up beside their group. "Oh, lord," she exclaimed, "How much do you charge to play _that_?"

The Dawgs turned to the woman, several smart retorts on their lips; but Dita interceded. "Now, boys, go on to the dance- I'll talk to Don." Grudgingly, the boys began to circle around the gym, heading to the exit- but not before giving the woman their best scowls and glares. Nervous, the woman took off for more familiar ground.

Dita thought about the woman's question. Don had dropped into the tank to check out the temperature of the water. The overhead fluoruescents were unable to penetrate into the water, but the tank itself had lights set at intermittent spots up and down the junctions of its four walls, their sharp illumination having the same effect on Don's boxers as the overhead lights when he was standing outside the tank. As he moved about seemingly naked to the human eye, an idea popped into Dita's head. She scanned the gym- the teenagers were leaving to go to the dance, the booths now being manned by their mentors and parents, the only customers left all adults. To her delight, Dita realized most of them were women.

_Wonder how many of them are single?_

Meanwhile, Don had climbed up out of the tank and was sitting on the bench across its top. He was moving his feet forward and back like a little boy.

_He's just too cute_, Dita thought. _Sorry, boys_- she silently apologized to the Dawgs-_but I think we've finally got the right bait._

Dita walked past the dunking booth into the main area of the gym, her most inviting smile on her face, a sale's pitch all ready to sell the women on Don. Sidling up to a group of three blonde women, all sporting shirts in support of the basketball team, Dita waited for a pause in their conversation before asking them, "Wanta try the dunking booth- first three balls are free."

Rolling her eyes, one of the women told her, "No, not interested."

"Ah, come on- what could it hurt," Dita said, "When's the last time you got something for free?"

A big-bosomed woman stared at Dita, stuck out her chest and pointedly told the thinner and definitively smaller-stacked secretary, "I get free things all the time."

Unwilling to give up, Dita pleaded, "Oh, come on- can't you give a sister a break." The three women grumbled amongst themselves when it became obvious that Dita was not going to give up. Looking around the gym, they begrudgingly said, "Oh, fine- where is it?"

Dita led them to the dunking booth. None of the women paid attention to Don as they just wanted to humor Dita by throwing the three free balls. Then they would make a quick getaway back to their own little click. After handing the big-bosomed woman three balls, Dita showed her where to stand. But before the woman could throw the first ball, Dita told her to wait; then she positioned herself near the target on the side of the tank and then gave the woman the okay to proceed.

Don smiled down at the blurry images in front of him.

Ole big-bosom threw the balls one after the other half-heartedly. Satisfied she had missed, she and her friends were about to leave when Dita sneakily knocked the target, sending Don down into the warm water beneath.

The movement of Don falling caught the attention of all three blondes, who stopped in their tracks, mouths and eyes opening wide.

The front of the dunking booth was clear acrylic, so they had an unobstructed view of Don as he dropped into the water and rose to the top again, the lights of the tank shining through his boxers and highlighting his muscular physique- his upper body was glistening wet, small droplets of water clinging to his moist hair while rivulets of water were sliding slowly down from his neck and over his shoulders to his chest and arms; his body hair appeared opaque and shiny from the combination of harsh lights and wetness, the yellow glare making his tanned skin a toasty, velvety brown. Two eyes blinked rapidly before crinkling smile lines appeared at their corners, emphasizing his boyish good looks and unselfconscious attitude about himself.

But it was Don's ample assets- barely veiled- that made the three women swoon. Dita came up beside the gaping women. "He works for the F.B.I. - bet he passed his physical this year, huh?"

"That must be a reflection- no way can any man have that much to offer," the big-bosomed woman said in awe. She swallowed before introducing herself to Dita. "I'm Becky," pointing to her friends, she introduced them; "this is Audrey and Katy."

Dita told them her name but before she could say anything else, the women moved around her and stood closer to the tank. Don was heading to the ladder in order to exit. Two strong legs and two strong arms moved back and forth, swishing the water around in the tank, abs tightening as Don reached for the ladder and began to pull himself up, water crawling down his bent back and over his round posterior, his boxers clinging tightly to his skin, the muscle groups in his body rippling as he pushed up and out, sliding back across the repositioned bench.

"Ahhh," the women sighed when Don leaned back with his chest thrust forward.

Shaking themselves from their daze, the women rounded on Dita. "Where'd you put those balls?"

Dita grinned, holding up three more balls. "Right here," she said. Before Becky could take them out of her hand, Dita slyly said, "But these aren't free- _these_ are five dollars each."

Becky, Audrey, and Katy put their hands on their hips, furious. Then they heard the sound of water dripping behind them and they looked back at Don, who was wringing a corner of his boxers out over the water below him. His bent shoulders reflected the overhead light, their dampened and well-defined curvatures too enticing for the three women to resist. Quickly, they started searching their purses.

"I've got twenty- that's four balls."

"Here's another ten- darn it, I spent everything else."

"Nothing, absolutely nothing- you don't take Visa? No? That's just great."

Forming a circle, the women made the fast decision to bring in reinforcements. Dita stood with her back to the gym's dividing curtain and watched as they started to do all the work necessary to get customers for her and Don.

Spreading out, Becky, Audrey, and Katy went from booth to booth, whispering in the ears of any woman willing to listen and pointing towards the unseen corner of the gym. One by one, women made excuses to leave their male companions or coworkers and sneaked back to the dunking booth; once behind the curtain, they started pooling their money together. It wasn't long before every woman in the place was standing impatiently in front of the booth; there was a short delay in putting the play into motion as they had to wait for Dita to count the money and one person was elected to be the ball-thrower.

Her name was Sue and she was the girl's softball coach.

Don continued to sit at the top of the dunking booth, ignorant of all the hustle and bustle occurring around him. His sight was still foggy, but he was able to tell that Dita had been able to get them some customers. A big grin of satisfaction appeared on his face; Don was surprised to hear sighs of contentment coming from the crowd. He wondered briefly what Dita was telling them. Probably some story about helping those less-fortunate than themselves, he thought, that always gets a person's attention.

These thoughts disappeared from his mind when he heard the _thunk!_ of a ball hitting its target and he fell from his perch, enjoying the warm feeling of the water as he dropped into it, smiling broadly when he bobbed to the top and heard loud clapping and cheers from his having been dunked.

The large group of women pressed around the dunking booth, hooting and whistling, elbowing each other and shaking their heads.

"F.B.I.? He can handcuff me anytime!"

"Think he has to register that as a concealed weapon?"

"Don't know, don't care- wouldn't mind if he used it on me either way."

"Think he's had training in how to handle it?"

"Oh, yeah- experience, too-it's clear by the way he moves he's a seasoned agent."

"Man, that's clearly no 22 caliber- I'd say Smith and Wesson."

"No, way, baby- definitely double-barreled shotgun."

"You're both wrong- machine gun."

"Missile."

"Rocket!"

"Uh, huh- whatever it is, bet it's fully cocked and loaded."

Don splashed down into the tank over and over again, each time coming up grinning. He wondered how much money they were taking in. An hour into his turn in the booth, several women noticed the back of the tank was also acrylic and went behind it, wanting a rear view. Their eyebrows raised and they nodded their heads satisfactorily when Don fell in the tank and the pressure raised the back of his shorts, a full moon showing for them that night though the average calendar said it was actually two weeks away. Motioning their friends over, the women began taking turns watching Don from the front and the back, cheering more heartily than ever each time the moon was revealed again.

Don just grinned, noticeably oblivious of his effect on the women panting heavily about him.

"There is absolutely nothing sexier," one woman sighed, "than a man who's hot and doesn't know it."


	6. Keep On Moving, Something to See Here

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Numb3rs or the characters therein. All characters are fictional, and should not be associated with any other person- real or imagined.

Author's note: I changed the rating of this chapter to M (mature) for its ending sequence. If you are old enough to read that type of stuff (it's not graphic, but I still feel the need to caution) then please let me know if it is sensual enough. I got two more love scenes coming up (later in one, sooner in another) in my other fanfictions and would like to know if I'm getting it right or if I need to be more descriptive or expressive. Thanks.

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Principal Rooney left the school cafeteria and headed towards the gym. The dance had been disappointing- from his point of view at least. None of the students had acted out at all, which left him with no excuse to punish any of them.

Even the Detention Dawgs had been on their best behavior. They had spent the better part of the evening in a corner gleefully watching the action on the dance floor. It was actually their first dance and they had been happy to just be there. However, when Rooney left the room, they followed him. They didn't trust the man to leave Don alone; he always seemed intent on causing him problems and they were intent on stopping him from doing it.

Rooney entered the funfair expecting to see it overfilled with parents. He frowned when he saw the room was less than half full. It took him several minutes to realize there were no women in sight.

_Now where the hell did they all go?_ he thought. The principal walked down one of the side aisles, unaware that five young men were following him. As Rooney got to the end of the row, he heard the distinct sound of a large group of women expressing intense satisfaction. Anger rose in him when he identified the location of the noise as coming from behind the far curtain- exactly in the spot he had put Detention Don and his worthless Dawgs.

Rooney stomped over to the women. They were joyfully shouting and talking and whistling- but at what, the principal couldn't tell. Pushing his way through the crowd, he made his way to the front and stopped cold. There, in front of him, in all his glory, was his nemesis, Don Eppes. Rooney couldn't believe the man had the nerve to be practically naked in _his_ school- it was downright scandalous.

A smile streaked across Rooney's face.

He turned abruptly and headed back to the dance. The superintendent was in attendance and what better person to see how unfit Don Eppes was to be a mentor to five young boys.

The Detention Dawgs watched Rooney practically run from the gym.

"Think he's up to somethin'?" Joey asked.

"Yeah, gotta be." Miguel answered. "But what?"

"Looks like he saw something he didn't like at our booth- I think we should go warn Don and Dita," Jeff told them.

The boys started to hustle towards the back of the gym. Dita saw them coming. Standing in front of the dunking booth, she gathered enough courage to tell the angry women that they had spent all of their money and the booth needed to close. When protesting voices began to rise in volume, Dita shouted, "We got company!" She pointed to the group of boys headed their way.

The women immediately understood. They began to disperse, gossiping quietly amongst themselves, solemnly promising each other and Dita that their little escapade would remain a secret, one after the other of single females stopping to give Dita a slip of paper- "Do you mind giving this to him?" before they headed back to their own booths.

"I'll take care of it," Dita promised each woman. When all of the women had gone back to the main part of the gym, she took great _care _in ripping up each phone number and dropping it in the trash.

"Hey," Don yelled down at her. He continued to sit in the tank, rubbing his eyes. "I think I'm getting back my sight."

_Talk about great timing,_ Dita thought, relieved. She stepped behind the tank and flicked a switch, shutting off the lights inside it.

As she came round to the front of it again, the Dawgs appeared in front of her. Jeff crossed his arms and asked, "What's Don doing up there in his boxers? I thought you were going to tell him he had to find something else to wear."

Hating to be deceptive with the boys but feeling it was necessary, Dita told them, "The overhead lights don't penetrate into the water and with the tank lights off, Don does look like he's wearing a swimsuit. Watch- you won't see a thing." Keeping her fingers crossed that she was correct, Dita pressed the target. Don fell into the water- and thankfully nothing could be seen. Don climbed back to his previous position, unable to hear the conversation between Dita and the boys.

"Sorry," the boys said shamefully, "we thought maybe you took advantage of him." Seeing the wad of cash sticking out of Dita's purse, they asked in amazement, "Is that money from _our_ booth?"

"Every last penny!" Dita told them proudly. Before she could explain, though, an obnoxious voice interrupted her.

"Right over here," Principal Rooney led the superintendent of schools to the Dawgs' booth. Both men stopped in front of the tank. Don waved down at them merrily, agitating Rooney; Don had been nice to him for the past two weeks and it was aggravating the principal because he knew the reason why. It was apparent to him that Don hadn't wanted to give him an excuse to kick the Dawgs out of the fun-fair. It angered the principal to no end that Don's polite attitude had worked- Rooney had found no reason to disqualify them from the competition. At least, not until now.

After taking a moment to compose himself, Rooney told the principal, "This innocent-looking dunking machine has actually been a scene of debauchery tonight. When you hit the target, that man up there, Special Agent Don Eppes, drops into the water and, to all intents and purposes, appears to be naked. Absolutely a disgusting spectacle for a high school fun-fair, especially when he is supposed to be a role model for these five, fine young men." Rooney waved an arm elegantly towards the Dawgs, who were standing at a distance from the two school administrators and were unable to make out Rooney's words; still, they made faces at the principal when he gestured in their direction. Rooney coughed into a hand to keep from responding and then turned his attention back to the superintendent.

"Well, now, we'll just see about that," the superintendent said seriously. He asked Dita to push the target, which she did. Don fell into the water and-

"Wait a minute!" Rooney yelled. "Something's wrong here!"

"Nothing looks wrong to me," the superintendent told him coldly. "A typical dunking booth with a man in swim trunks- there is nothing disgusting about that."

Rooney stormed closer to the tank, but nothing again. The Dawgs began quietly talking amongst themselves as the principal began taking giant steps backwards, stopped, stared at Don, then took more steps back- repeating the movement every few feet, unaware that every woman in the gym was watching his behavior from the corners of their eyes.

While Rooney was thus occupied, Miguel snuck to the Spanish Club booth and slipped behind the sheet hiding the workers. Rooney stepped back further and further, desperate to see what he was sure he had earlier; he did not notice Miguel take a hook and line that led to a fishing rod held by a twelve-year-old boy and carry it towards the end of the booth, waiting for the principal, the Spanish Club mentor purposely ignoring what Miguel was about to do; she had personally donated over fifty dollars to the dunking booth and didn't want the sexy man in the tank to get into trouble. When Rooney took a last step back towards the booth, unable to go further, Miguel hooked the principal's rug, making sure it was thoroughly stuck.

The superintendent walked over to Rooney and stood next to him, staring at Don as he climbed up the inside ladder of the dunking booth. "Rooney, I don't care how close or far away you get- there's nothing to see."

Embarrassed and overwhelmed with anger, Rooney clenched his fists and spun on his heels, stomping several feet from his superior before he felt a hard tug at his head-

and then his rug was torn roughly away.

Rooney stopped, reaching two hands up over his bald palate and patting it, refusing to believe it was gone. It was soon impossible for him to deny, as every woman in the gym began to laugh at him, their loud guffaws following him as he ran from the gym- the superintendent chuckling as he made his way down through the fun-fair; _man_, he thought, _that guy is such an ass_.

Don climbed up to the top of the dunking booth. He leaned over the edge and, having seen Rooney's little performance, asked Dita, "What was that all about?"

Guiltily, Dita pressed up close enough to the tank for Don to hear what she had to say, whispering so the Dawgs wouldn't. "I'm real sorry, Don- but your boxers. Well, they're kind of transparent when the lights are on in the tank."

A look of horror appeared on Don's face. He gulped several times before asking, "You mean, every time I got dunked everybody could see- uh, everything?"

Dita nodded. Don's face lost all of its color. "Who-who saw me?"

"Just a bunch of women- no teenagers, not even the Dawgs- I swear." Dita felt a little better when some relief appeared on Don's face. "Look, we made a ton of money and the Dawg's don't know the real reason why we did. At this point, you can tell them anything that will make them feel good about themselves. Just take a look at how happy they are."

Don cast a glance over at the boys. They were now all standing near Dita's purse, carefully putting the money into order and counting it, proud smiles on their faces. Dita was right, Don decided. It would be better to let the boys believe their banner and parents' interest in supporting the club were the reasons they had made so much money, not because he had unknowingly given a…a…Don sighed. A peep show was the only way to describe it.

"Okay, tell them people came by all night impressed with their banner and wanted to contribute to the club so they could become law enforcement officers, help keep them on the right track- blah, blah, blah."

"Thanks, Don. I'm glad you're not mad about this."

Don pursed his lips. Right in front of him was the woman responsible for his unwitting public display- and she was shrugging it off like it was no big deal. It was apparent he was going to have to let her know how he really felt about the whole situation- but only after the Dawgs had gone away.

"Can you get me a towel?" Don asked. Dita hurried into the boys' locker room and returned with one. Don took it and swung it around his neck, then climbed back onto the dunking booth bench.

Dita stared at him confused. "Don, you can come down now. Everybody is packing up and leaving."

"No way," he told her. "Not until there is no other living soul in this joint. I'm not about to let anybody else see me naked."

Dita tried to coax him down, but it was to no avail. The Dawgs finished counting the money, put it back in Dita's purse and gave her a final tally. Figuring she owed Don a little dignity, she offered to take the boys home so he could get dress as he requested- completely alone. The Dawgs waved good-bye to Don and followed Dita, passing through a speedily emptying gym and out to her car. An hour later, she returned to the school, just making it back as the janitor was locking up the last of the doors, explaining to him she had left something she had to get that night, hoping Don hadn't decided he was angry at her stunt after all and taken off.

"Look," the janitor told Dita as he handed her a key, "this is a master- don't lose it. I'm going to lock the front door and set the alarm- when you're finished, head out through the cafeteria door near the north side and you won't set it off. Rooney was too cheap to fix the wire leading to that particular door."

Dita thanked him and made her way down to the gym. The main lights were turned off. She had to make her way by a trail of sublights set along the floor of the gym, almost tripping over several cables before reaching the far corner. Someone had turned the dunking booth's lights on again, their beams sending rippling sections of luminescence rocking back and forth throught the interior of the tank, the main color of the water now a dark shade of turquoise in the almost pitch-black room.

To Dita's relief, Don was still there. Only, she couldn't figure out why he was sitting on the bench at the top of the dunking booth.

"Hey," she shouted, "why didn't you change into your clothes when everybody cleared out?"

Don tugged on his boxers. "I'm caught. I can't twist around and reach where the fabric is stuck."

"Hold on," Dita told him. She put aside her purse and went to the tank, climbing up the ladder on its side. Standing on the top rung, she leaned forward. "Where are you caught?"

Don pointed over and behind his left hip.

Dita tried to reach across to him, but her arms weren't long enough. Hiking up her thick, long skirt with one hand, she held the back of the booth with the other, swinging over one leg at a time and plopping down hard onto the bench besides Don, both of them barely able to fit. After pushing her glasses up, Dita squeezed her body against Don, her left arm behind his back. "Well, now let me see if I can release you from your position on this bench."

Don grinned wickedly. "No, let me see if I can release _you_ from _your _position on this bench." That was when Dita noticed his left hand was strongly gripping both ends of the towel she'd given him. Her eyes followed the doubled-over towel's ends from Don's hand to where he had wrapped it around the dunking booth target, sudden realization of what he planned making her mouth open wide to protest- but much too late, the words unable to come before Don gave the towel a hard pull.

Dita squealed as the bench released, wrapping her arms around Don as they fell into the water below. When they sank to the bottom, she released him and pushed up, sputtering obscenities as her bulky sweaters and skirt tangled around her and weighed her down.

"I…can….not… believe…you…did….that…" she gasped, trying to move in the water but finding it close to impossible within the heaviness of her clothes.

"That's what I was thinking when I found out you sold my body tonight," Don told her.

"I didn't sell your body," Dita protested, "I just allowed some very nice women to do a little window shopping."

Dita tried to push the hair from her face, but found even the slightest movement difficult. Don, still only in his boxers, easily flowed through the water to press against Dita, the pressure of his body pushing up against hers slowly but steadily forcing her into a corner of the tank.

Once there, Dita stared up at him, her hair a wet mess and her glasses barely sitting on the tip of her nose. Don gently took them off and tossed them out over the edge of the tank.

"Hey," Dita complained, "I need those."

Don placed his lips against her ear. "Not for what we're going to do," he hissed, his tongue flickering along the ridge of her ear and down to its lobe to briefly suck, his body flat against hers.

Dita's heart started pounding. "I, uh, we can't- this is the school, kids go here, we… no, someone will…"

Ignoring her protests, Don deliberately unbuttoned her outer sweater and tenderly began to undress her, placing soft kisses along her cheek and down her neck- then on every inch of skin as it was revealed. A torrid fever flushed through Dita's body when she felt the strokes of Don's calloused fingertips, shivering in anticipation more urgently with each layer of clothing that he peeled from her body, the warmth of his breath and the soft, fiery touch of his lips against her skin overlapping the soothing warmth of the water surrounding them.

Once he had finished with Dita's clothing, Don took off his boxers. He returned to Dita, both of them completely naked. Self-conscious of her previous bragging that there was more to her than met the eye and knowing that there was actually less, Dita apologized to Don for misleading him.

Cupping his right hand around one small bottom cheek and his other around a tiny breast, Don peered at her through half-closed eyes. "I'm not greedy," he said in a husky voice, "a couple handfuls are all a man really needs to be satisfied."

Dita melted into him. As Don's hands, lips and body continued to do things to her she had never experienced at such an intense level before, she tried but seemed to be failing to keep up. "I can't see," she whispered to him as explanation.

"Do a _Grease_, Dita," he told her between quick nips on her earlobe.

"A grease?" she moaned in confusion.

"Mmm, hmmm," he murmured against her throat, the vibrations sending pleasure signals to every part of her body as he explained-

"_Feel your way_."


	7. Where?

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Numb3rs of the characters therein. All characters are fictional, and should not be associated with any other person- real or imagined.

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Alan flipped a burger before placing it on a bun and handing it to Colby. "Rare as requested," he told the young agent.

Colby thanked him between mouthfuls of burger. They were in the Eppes back yard having a barbecue to celebrate the Detention Dawgs' win at the fun- fair, joined by Don as well as Megan, David, Charlie, Larry, and a fully-clothed Dita, the Dawgs just arriving as Alan set several more pounds of raw beef on the grill.

The prior week, the superintendent of schools had personally congratulated the boys for having raised five times as much money as any of the previous years' winners. The boys had thanked him for his praise but had humbly stated that most of the credit should be given to their mentor, who believed in them and had worked hard to make sure their booth had the best to offer.

Having heard several unproven rumors amongst the women of the PTA and combining it with what he'd been told by Rooney, the superintendent had nodded his head in silent agreement, thinking any booth offering what theirs had to a room full of bored mothers was bound to make all that money- probably would have made more, he'd thought ruefully, if that ass Rooney hadn't interceded.

Colby stared as Don sat his muscular frame down onto a lounge chair and pulled Dita into his lap. In stark contrast to Don, who looked extremely attractive in his black tee-shirt and cut-off shorts, Dita was her typical plain and unalluring self: hair piled in a mess on her head, thick glasses sliding down her nose, and layers of cumbersome clothes covering her body- a long, thick skirt topped by three sweaters, the top one again buttoned unevenly. "I just don't get it," Colby said as he nabbed a second burger. "She is just one big mess- what can Don possibly see in her?"

Alan tapped the grill with his turner before answering. "Maybe what he sees is deeper than her outer appearance."

David joined them, just in time to catch Alan's comment. "Maybe what he sees is _under_ her outer appearance." Alan and Colby cocked questioning eyes at him. David lowered his voice, "Don says there's a lot more to her than meets the eye, if you know what I mean." Both men nodded, turning their eyes to Dita and mentally trying to undress her to see what Don could have possibly seen.

Amidst their attempts, Dita climbed off of Don's lap and approached Alan, asking him for some of his "really good meat". David and Colby snickered at Alan suggestively, who blushed and flustered about for several minutes before he was finally able to land two burgers on a plate for Dita and Don. When she left, Alan shook his turner at the two young agents. "Any more of that, and no more food for you."

David and Colby quickly apologized and made a hasty retreat, snatching two burgers each before Alan could further protest.

Dita sat on Don's lap and handed him one of two colas she had picked up for them. Don had insisted no alcohol would be allowed at the barbecue because the high school students would be present and he wanted to set a good example. All of the Dawgs hollered greetings to Don and Dita before lining up in front of Alan and clearing him of all his cooked burgers save one for himself. The boys stopped at a nearby picnic table to finish filling their plates with salads and chips, took several cans of pop and headed to sit near Don and Dita.

The rest of the guests circled around the boys and their mentors. Alan offered a toast of congratulations for a job well-done.

"So," Charlie asked, "I hear you won a field trip. That sounds like fun."

"Yeah," Jeff said, "paid in full by the school."

Charlie glanced at his brother and grinned. "I bet that made Rooney happy."

Don grinned back. "Oh, yeah- it thrilled him to death! He called me up the other day and ranted on and on about how we better not embarrass the school by doing any more- and I quote- 'despicable shenanigans'."

Alan frowned. "Doesn't he know you're an adult with a respectable job now? What's he afraid you're going to do- act like you did as a teenager and sneak into the school one night so you can go skinny-dipping in the pool with your girlfriend?"

Don and Dita exchanged a secret smile. The young woman brushed some loose strands of hair from her face. "Oh, I find it difficult enough to believe Don would do something like that as a teenager- but as an adult? No way."

Don laughed along with the rest of the group before he noticed the interested looks on the faces of the Dawgs. His face turned serious as he wagged a finger at the boys. "No you don't- I'm not spending another two weeks serving detention. I mean it."

The five boys put on their most innocent expressions, crossing their hearts and promising they would never in a million years think of doing such a thing. Don sighed. It would only be two weeks if they were lucky.

Maybe they won't get caught, he thought hopefully. Better let it slip about that cafeteria door. His plan of action thus determined, Don returned to the conversation as Dita was explaining her future plans to his father. "Don convinced me I should return to school and Charlie helped me with all the paperwork. By this time next week, I'll be off to Kansas to attend a college that specializes in secondary education."

Seeing the disappointed look that appeared on Don's face, Alan stood up and went behind Don's back, leaning over to whisper softly in his ear, "You did the right thing."

Don nodded, but still, he looked sadly at Dita as she continued to talk. He was sure going to miss her.

"Hey, Don," Colby smirked at him, "Are you getting a commission from a temp service or something?"

"What do you mean by that?" Don asked.

"You keep chasing Rooney's secretaries away- at the rate you're working, you'll be a millionaire in less than five years."

Dita laughed and fell into Don's arms, planting a small kiss on his lips. "If I had known about the perks of this job, I would have worked for free." Don smiled, wrapped his arms around Dita and settled with her against the back of his chair.

Talk returned to the Detention Dawgs and their field trip. "The school only pays for the basics, so we need to raise some serious spending money," Jeff said. "We were thinking of having a car wash- that is," he looked around at his audience, "if we could get some help."

Charlie, Alan, David, and Colby readily agreed, Megan and Amita bowing out. "Not our kind of thing- but if you need some supplies, we'd be happy to donate."

The Dawgs accepted all of their offers of help.

Dita pulled away from Don and joined the rest of the adults in throwing away their trash. Don sat up and opened another can of pop, taking several gulps before asking the boys, "Exactly how much money do you think you need for just one field trip?"

"Lots," the boys answered, Miguel pointing out, "Might neva get ta go again."

"Oh, don't worry about it- I told you before, we can go on other field trips. It's just nice that this one is on Rooney."

"But not trips like this," Ben argued. "You're always busy- when will you have another week off?"

Don stared at the boys in puzzlement. "A week? Exactly where are we supposed to be going?" Dita suddenly appeared at his side and asked him for his can- Don drained the last of its contents just as the boys shouted-

"Chicago!"

Then everyone came running to Don's side.

"Man," the Dawgs exclaimed while several people pounded Don's back as he coughed and sputtered pop from his throat, "he must be havin' a heart attack or somethin'- never seen nobody look that sick."


End file.
